Anne Brown

I've been spending summer weekends in Wellfleet for most of my adult life. In my 20s it was all about endless sun, fun, friends, music and dancing at the Beachcomber and Rick's Outer Bar before heading to the kettle ponds for a late night dip. Time seemed to expand on these weekends. Whenever someone asked me what time it was, I'd look down at my tan, bare wrist, smile and say "summertime."

Today, time there still seems endless but is spent more leisurely. I rise early, savor an ice coffee and perhaps take in an early yoga class or scope out treasures at the flea market. I strategically pick the least crowded beach to set up my umbrella and savor a good book between long spans of scanning the ocean horizon or strolling along the shore to find perfect rocks to add to my collection. I reluctantly head home at weekend's end, my mind and spirit 100% full up with peace and joy to sustain me until my return.

I finally made my first visit to Monhegan Island. My beau, his pup and I were in high anticipation on the ferry ride over from Port Clyde for a day of exploring. As was promised, I was enchanted from the moment I glimpsed the raw beauty of Manana Island that sheltered the approaching harbor.

I have seen endless images of Monhegan in paintings and photos but nothing could beat the immediacy of finally being there in person. My partner quickly grabbed a map as we walked up the hill from the harbor and selected a hiking trail for us to follow. I nodded in agreement but was really in my own world taking it all in visually and snapping photos. We quickly lost each other as happens often in situations like these. I felt guilty but was happy to be on my own, exploring at my own pace without feeling the need to keep up.

I followed a narrow path past quaint artist studios and met a friendly meandering kitty with the unlikely name "Murderface" on  his name tag. Further down the path, I startled a resting laborer taking a lunchtime nap in his work truck down by Jamie Wyeth's house overlooking the coastline before finding my way back to my party at the beach.

We agreed to veer apart again back on the hiking trail. While they continued towards the coastal overlook, I headed towards the lighthouse museum on the hill and then down back into "town" to check out the art galleries. It's a small island so we hooked back up again soon enough and wrapped up our too short visit with an ice cream and a pint at the popular island brewery where we sat with a chatty summer resident who filled us in on all the island gossip. 

We reluctantly headed back towards the harbor. As the ferry pulled away, many kids were preparing to jump off the pier as a farewell to their departing guests. Flowers were thrown in after them and tradition says if the flowers float back towards the island, the friends and loved ones leaving on the ferry would return soon. I look forward to my return, perhaps on my own next time and in the off-season to fully take in more of this special place.

During a visit to North Haven, the ferry worker suggested to our photo group that we visit Brown's Boatyard, located next to the ferry dock. Upon entering the big old wharf building, we were greeted by a friendly senior black lab as we sought out the owners to inquire if we could wander about and take some photos. 

Having come from a sailing family and being surrounded by boats throughout my youth, I felt instantly at home surrounded by the wood shavings and old nautical paraphernalia.  

We found current owner, Foy Brown (the fourth generation to run the business), who reluctantly agreed to sit for us and have his portrait taken. He let us know we certainly were not the first to ask. He told us a bit about the business as various grandkids wandered in and out.

As we were leaving on the ferry at the end of the day, the sun had come out and I saw various men sitting in the old random seating by the open wharf door. I suspect they were gossiping about the happenings on the small island as had been done for generations before them and will likely be done for generations to come.

Learn more about the history of Brown's Boatyard.

For over 30 years, I've spent a good part of my summers in Wellfleet on the outer edge of Cape Cod. Year rounders, summer residents and vacationers kick-off the summer season by participating in, or cheering along on the sidelines of, the annual Wellfleet 4th of July parade. Together, we celebrate our freedom and independence and the promise of long sunny days, endless sandy beaches and the rejuvenating salty sea. 

I have vivid memories of a second grade school field trip to the Alfalfa Farm. The dairy farm was located 20 miles from my hometown of Winthrop, just outside of Boston, but it was an alternative universe to my impressionable, eight-year old self. To this day, when passing the farm from the highway, I recollect sitting on a stool in a dark, cool, smelly barn learning how to milk a cow and realizing there was another way of life than what I had known.

Perhaps it was that experience, along with some profound intuitive flashes received after being laid off from my soul crushing corporate job, which led me to become a part-time farm educator at Natick Community Organic Farm this past year. The hourly wage I was paid just about covered my travelling expense from the city, but it wasn’t about the money. I was determined to contribute in a meaningful way and I could think of no better way than to help kids become more connected to the natural world.

Teaching kids at a farm fell WAY outside my comfort zone. I never had kids, had never taught before, and spent only a handful of hours on a farm. But I was ready for the challenge and jumped in.

Things move quickly on a farm. After a few hours of training and shadowing,  I found myself standing in front of 30 pairs of young eyes for my first maple sugaring tour. There was little time for nerves to set in. I had no choice but to dive in and give it my best shot. I was relieved when the tour was over. I survived and believe the kids may have actually learned something. I was an exhilarating experience and I was proud of myself.

Each morning of my shift, I would arrive early so I could walk around and visit with the animals and see what changes had taken place since my last visit. There was always something happening – animals were born (or sadly taken away), new fields were being planted, and farmers were busily crossing items off of their never ending chores list. After a few moments of blissful peace, the school bus would arrive and out would pour dozens of rowdy, excited kids. It was then “on-time” for me for the next 75 minutes.

With each subsequent tour I became more knowledgeable and comfortable and learned how to adapt my style based on the age and dynamics of the group. The kids stole my heart. No matter how young they were, they amazed me with their insight and intelligence. There would inevitably be two or three kids that would stick by my side and share their stories with me as we walked around the farm. Sometimes they would take my hand or call me Farmer Anne. I secretly loved that.

As the school season came to an end, so did my job at the farm - just when I felt I was starting to have an impact. But if I helped to spark a bit of wonder in just one child, my time and effort would all be worthwhile. I will dearly miss my time at the farm and mostly the kids. Who knows what life will throw at me next year but perhaps when the sap starts flowing again in late winter, I’ll be back.

Last fall, I volunteered to help the owner of Breakneck Hill Farm host a large group of urban teens for a mini 'permablitz' -  many people coming together to learn and work on projects that turn underutilized land into edible landscapes.

It was a hugely rewarding experience for all involved. For the farm owner, it was much more than the free help of many hands to enhance his property, but a way for him to share his love of the land and knowledge of permaculture practices with impressionable young minds.

For the young adults, it was an eye-opening experience to be out of the city and in the countryside, learning where their food comes from and feeling the satisfaction that comes from working hard, along side others, to build something productive and lasting.

For me, it was deeply rewarding to be around these fun, interesting and engaged young people and see the connections being made. It made me hopeful to think this experience may help them expand their ideas of what's possible and empower them to be the change needed in our world today.

This experience also convinced me that I wanted to learn more about permaculture design. I'm currently enrolled in a permaculture design certificate program and am super excited for all that I'm learning. I look forward to applying these skills to create a more sustainable and fulfilling lifestyle and sharing what I learn with others.

Stay tuned as I plan to share more experiences as I pursue this venture!

I had the pleasure to spend time this past year at the Oyase Community School, a vital experiential learning program offering by the Vermont Wilderness School in southern Vermont. Each Thursday during the school year, local youths and adult mentors spend a day in the local wilds connecting with nature and each other. They join as community in the morning around a fire to express gratitude, sing songs and storytell. They then breakout into “tribes” to build fires, learn about and track local critters, forage for edible plants, play games and explore. Every day is different, exciting and enriching beyond what any traditional classroom can deliver. I fell in love with the children and was inspired by the devotion and passion of the mentors. Spending time in nature with them learning and exploring was absolutely enchanting. My wish is that all children and adults can experience this.

View the video

I discovered Vermont Wilderness School through the work of Richard Louv and the Children & Nature Network. This past year I was fortunate to take part in VWS’s adult learning program, Essentials of Resilient Communities.

Learn more:
Vermont Wilderness School
Richard Louv
Children & Nature Network

It was such an amazing experience practicing my portrait photography skills by shooting the artist, Eric Hopkins at his North Haven home and studio. I was granted this experience while taking a Maine Media Workshop with the talented editorial photographer Matt Cosby.. Matt was so patient and generous sharing his experience and knowledge with our small group of "eager" (as Matt described us) aspiring woman photographers.

Eric is fun and quirky and super down-to-earth, like his artwork. He was so generous to spend the day with us and allow us a glimpse into his beautiful world. It was an experience of a lifetime.  

I care deeply about our planet and pray humanity will soon live again in harmony with it. In September 2014, I hopped off the bus from Boston to New York to participate in the Peoples' Climate March, the largest climate march in history attended by 311,000 deeply concerned citizens from all walks of life.  It was extremely moving for me to be surrounded by others who care as deeply as I do. It restored my faith but much more work needs to be done.

I finally made it to a tour inside the Olson House in Cushing, Maine. (Read about my first visit to the property, Discovering Cushing.) What incredible light! It's understandable why Andrew Wyeth chose to paint here for over thirty years while visiting with Alvaro Olson and his sister Christina.

The rooms were stripped and scrubbed clean of most artifacts which perfectly featured the amazing patina on the walls and floors of this well lived in place. The original blue kitchen door, featured in many of Wyeth's paintings, is still intact and shows every animal scratch and gouge from decades of lugging in wood to keep the drafty house warm during the long Maine winters. Our tour guide mentioned the door would be put aside for preservation soon so I'm so happy to have gotten a photo of it.

My Yankee roots run deep. I've lived in the Boston area for most of my life but the city lifestyle has begun to wear on me. I've been dreaming about a move to Maine where I perceive life to be more honest and simple. For a month last summer, I was able to live out a dream by living on a friend's sailboat in Rockort Harbor and attending some photography workshops at Maine Media Workshops & College. Between workshops, I explored the mid-coast area with camera in hand and had the good pleasure to meet some of the fine people who live there. 

This past summer I had the good fortune to study portrait photography at Maine Media with Matt Cosby, a graduate of the school, a successful editorial photographer and one of the nicest people I've ever met. After much prompting by Maine Media staff, he agreed to teach the workshop and went all out to provide our group with an unforgettable experience. 

Our first shoot was to North Haven island to meet with and shoot the artist, Eric Hopkins. While there we also visit Brown's Boatyard. On another shoot, Matt arranged two gorgeous models, a vintage Volvo, a deserted barn and a sunset trip to the top of a hill preserve overlooking the coastline.

In between our outings, we shot photogenic fellow classmates and had a studio lighting session with the infamous model Peter Patton, a Maine Media icon. On our last day, we were exhausted but still ventured into Belfast to practice befriending strangers on the street and asking to take their photograph.

I'm forever grateful for the skills and confidence gained during this magical week in Maine.

I'm magnetically drawn to fishing villages perhaps due to my ancestral roots within the fishing industry. There is not a more quintessential fishing village than Stonington, Maine at the southern tip of Deer Isle, jutting out into Penobscot Bay. I first visited the seaside town as a child on a family vacation. When I returned on a solo pilgrimmage four decades later, it was as if walking back in time. Little had changed - the Victorian architecture, the cacophony of seagulls, morning fog horns and lobster boats motoring out for their daily catch amongst the archipelago. I find a peace on that island that is hard to put into words. I hope my photos begin to name it.

While exploring the towns inland from the Maine mid-coast, I passed Searsmont Auto Parts and felt compelled to stop in when I spied the old cars parked in the back field.

I entered the shop and met Gabby who said I was welcome to walk around and take some photos. She told me her husband was a huge Studebaker guy which explained the rusty collection out back. She pointed to the old Cadillac ambulance surrounded by weeds and said that was her husband's car in high school. I imagine he must have been very popular with the ladies with that as his ride. 

I have a new fascination with the coastal town of Cushing, Maine.
Read the story behind these photos, Discovering Cushing

Surrounded by the ocean; dotted with yacht clubs; a stones throw from Boston; airplanes noisily flying low overhead - Winthrop is a part of me and I am a part of it. For those like me who grew up there, the place will never leave me no matter how far I might stray.

Founded in 1636 by Puritans, Winthrop is the oldest, smallest and most densely populated municipality in Massachusetts, although it still insists on calling itself a town. At its founding, it consisted mostly of small farms but eventually became a summer resort and residence for Boston businessmen. During my time growing up there in the 60s and 70s, it consisted mostly of young families of Irish and Italian decent. The close-knit community is known for being hardworking, no-nonsense and down-to-earth, perhaps centered by the natural beauty of the ocean that encompasses it.

I visit less frequently these days after the recent sale of my parent's home. My brother still lives there and will likely never leave, like many from there. Newcomers consist of new immigrants from afar as well as those who had the good sense to discover it after being pushed out of more popular Boston suburbs.

Luckily, when I get the urge, I can easily take a short drive through the Callahan Tunnel or over the Tobin Bridge and be back there for a walk around Deer Island or to catch up and reminisce about the old times with good friends. Winthrop will always be there to help me remember who I am and where I come from.

Anytime I am in northern Vermont, I'm compelled to make a visit to Shelburne Farms. It's a very special place. The 1,400 acre estate was built in 1886 by Dr. William Seward and Lillian Vanderbilt Webb and Frederick Law Olmsted designed the landscape. Today, the land and buildings are run as a non-profit organization dedicated to sustainability and conservation education. In the winter months you can walk your dog through the meandering trails in solitude. In the summer months you can take a hayride tour to visit the farm animals and cheese making facilities and stop at the main estate to learn about the history and marvel at the formal flower gardens overlooking Lake Champlain.

I was lucky enough to live in the heart of Boston's north end for 16 years. I witnessed the Expressway come down and the beautiful Rose Kennedy Greenway develop and successfully tie together the busy waterfront with the rest of Boston. I typically like to escape the city on the summer weekends but when I do hang around in the summertime, I'm reminded how vibrant yet also relaxing the city can be. Everyone slows down, takes full advantage of the beautiful public spaces and enjoys being together. 

My ex was an avid mountain biker and we once spent a lovely weekend at the Inn at Mountain View Farm in East Burke, a well-known mountain biker mecca in northernmost Vermont. It was off-season so we practically had the Inn to ourselves. I awoke very early on a cloudy morning to explore the grounds and take some photos. I said 'hi' to the barn cat and other lucky animals lazing at the Inn's animal sanctuary. The air was still and there were delicate droplets of dew on the wildflowers. Soon the fog and clouds lifted and I headed in for breakfast and fresh coffee before we ventured off into the trails for day of riding. Blissful.

I took advantage of the final autumn days and participated in a two-day landscape photography workshop through Travel Vision with visiting Argentinian photographer, Ossian Lindholm.

Day one included excellent classroom instruction. Ossian shared many tips and tricks and says the key to creating compelling landscape images comes from capturing the most optimal light.

On day two, our group headed to Great Brook Farm in Carlisle and Minute Man National Park in Concord for a day of shooting. We were granted only a few glimpses of sunshine on a mostly cloudy day but it was so enjoyable to be together with other nature loving photographers and learning firsthand from Ossian who was so patient and kind. I learned so much through the two day immersion experience and look forward to putting my new skills to practice.

Nothing fascinates me more than the natural world. Everything we need to know can be learned by observing and mimicking nature. Man is finally waking up to the fact that we are nature and nature is us. 

Just look around!

When I was young I had no doubt that I'd be a world traveller when I "grew up." My mom subscribed me to an educational book series and each month I'd get a sticker book featuring a different country. I'd spend hours devouring every page and learning all about the people, the climate and the economy of different cultures. I couldn't get enough.

As it turns out, I have yet to stray too far from north america aside from a quick weekend trip to England and one epic trip to Italy with a good friend a few years back. In seven days we toured Venice, Florence, Rome and the Amalfi Coast. It was March, so off-season, which I think was a blessing as we did not have to fight the heat and crowds. 

It was truly magical walking around Venice at night, getting a first glimpse of the Doumo in Florence, stumbling upon the ruins in Rome and touring Pompeii and imagining what it must have been like to live in Roman times. It was everything I anticipated and so much more.

Perhaps there is still time for me to become the world traveler I'm meant to be. In the meantime, I'll continue dreaming.

New York City is a feast for the eyes, especially for a photographer. I don't visit the city too often but during one visit, I popped into a produce store on the upper west side for something cool to drink after endless walking on a hot summer day. My mouth was agape at the bounty of beautifully displayed fruits and vegatables.